


Fire Meet Gasoline

by BloodInTheFields



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Possibly other characters if I decide to continue this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 11:56:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4786451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodInTheFields/pseuds/BloodInTheFields
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her hand pushes the door open, slowly, and she waits. The only sound she can hear is her own heartbeat. She takes a step forward, then another, and slips into the darkness of the room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire Meet Gasoline

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot, but I might write more if inspiration hits and time is found.

Her hand pushes the door open, slowly, and she waits. The only sound she can hear is her own heartbeat. She takes a step forward, then another, and slips into the darkness of the room.

 

She can feel a presence and she knows she’s not alone. The person she’s looking for is here, with her. Her eyes scan the room but the lack of light makes it impossible for her to discern anything. She tries to listen for a breathing, anything that would betray the other’s position, but her target is highly trained and knows how to be silent.

 

The Venetian blind hiding a window is suddenly pulled up by an invisible hand, and Root raises her gun in its direction. Her heart is beating so fast that she’s afraid it will give out her own position. She crouches and finds the right corner of the room. There, she leans against the wall and waits.

 

Her eyes, now accustomed to the darkness, can make out the edges of tables and chairs. She scrutinizes the darkness and there, on the opposite side of the room, she finally sees the person she’s been looking for.

 

“Tell me, Root, why do you always run willingly into traps?”

 

Of course, if Root has seen her, _she_ has seen Root. The gun in Root’s hand trembles. _Her_ voice is so cold and so harsh. Root hasn’t thought about the state in which she’d find _her_. She hasn’t let herself wonder; her mind having a tendency to conjure up images that Root would rather never have to think about. She has seen too much horror, committed too many crimes, to not always expect the worst. Sometimes it’s a blessing. Today it’s a nightmare. Her hand clenches her gun tighter and she exhales slowly.

 

“You should be flattered. I don’t do that for everyone,” she finally replies, hoping her voice isn’t as shaky as her legs are.

 

There’s a snicker at the other side of the room, where the person Root came to find is standing. The mocking sound makes Root shiver.

 

“Drop the gun, Root. We both know you’re not going to use it.”

“I’m not naïve, _Sameen_. The moment I let my guard down, you will shoot me.”

“Naïve? You’re the one who followed me here, knowing it was a trap.”

 

It is unsettling, to be talking to a shadow. The lights from outside are not enough to allow Root to get a good glimpse at Shaw. But she does not need to see the other woman because her presence is overwhelming. Shaw was taken from them over seven months ago. Seven months of hell, for Root. Probably for Shaw, too, Root thinks.

 

“I was hoping you’d come back with me,” Root says truthfully.

“Thanks, but I’m good where I am.”

“And where is that? In Samaritan’s clutches, under its control?”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”

“The Machine doesn’t control me.”

“Maybe not now. But she used to.”

 

A heavy silence follows; both women trying to figure out what to do next. Shaw is leaning against the wall, close to the window, and Root is now standing up, still in her corner of the room.

 

“It shouldn’t be like this. You shouldn’t be with them,” Root says, regretfully.

“You’re right. I should be dead,” Shaw answers, calm and honest as always.

 

There’s a buzz in Root’s pocket where her phone is. That’s the signal she has been waiting for. Slowly, Root lowers her gun to the ground and kicks it a few feet away from her and toward Shaw.

 

“You said I was not going to shoot you, and you’re right. Even knowing that you’re working for the enemy, I can’t do it. I saw you getting shot in front of me once and that was enough.”

 

Shaw takes a step forward, just one, but her face is now lit by the street lamps below. Root’s heart aches at the sight. Sameen is just as beautiful as she remembers, with her dark eyes scrutinizing her and her full lips—oh, Root remembers those lips—set in a straight line. Shaw looks a bit thinner but also more muscular, if her arms are anything to go by.

 

“C’mon Root. I know you didn’t bring just one gun. They didn’t take away my memories.”

“Haven’t they? Because the Shaw I know would rather die than be a slave to Samaritan.”

 

There’s a flash of anger that appears on Shaw’s face, but it’s gone just as quickly.

 

“I am no one’s slave.”

“Really? Can you walk away from it? Can you just go up to Greer and tell him you want out?”

“Shut. Up.”

 

Root gets closer, but still leaves quite a bit of distance between them.

 

“What did they do to you,” she asks, more to herself than to Shaw.

 

The other woman swallows and the gun in her hand lowers slightly for a second. Root continues:

 

“I killed her, you know? I’m not sure they told you what happened to Martine, but… it was me.”

“Yeah, I guessed. They didn’t have to tell me. The bitch just stopped coming to see me so I figured she was in the ground.”

 

It feels so familiar, talking with Shaw. It’s as if no time has passed at all.

 

“Why did you come, Root?”

 

The question is more of a resigned sigh and Root frowns.

 

“What else was I supposed to do? You looked right at me and then turned around and disappeared. Of course I was going to follow.”

“Alone? You didn’t even call for back-up.”

“I… I didn’t have time.”

“So they don’t even know where you are.”

 

Shaw shakes her head in disbelief.

 

“I have to say I’m a bit disappointed. I was hoping to catch more of you. But I’ll find them. It’s just a matter of time. Smart move to relocate. The subway is the first place I searched.”

“I will kill them for what they did to you,” Root vows.

“I’m afraid you’re not going to live long enough for that,” Shaw replies, her voice smooth but with a menacing tone nonetheless.

 

Another buzz in her pocket and Root takes a step back. Unconsciously, Shaw follows, stepping forward to now be a mere five feet away from Root, her gun still pointed at the hacker.

 

“Sameen… I really wish things would have played out differently.”

“Yeah, well, I wish Greer would give me a raise, but we can’t always have what we want. Now, give me your back-up piece.”

 

Root holds Shaw’s gaze for a few seconds before she looks down at her feet. Her right hand reaches behind her back and she takes out her second gun and hands it to Shaw. For the briefest of moment, their fingers touch and there’s a sharp intake of breath that Root isn’t sure came from her. But Shaw retracts her hand and tucks her own gun in the holster secured around her waist.

 

“Now, you can come with me willingly or I can handcuff you.”

“I didn’t call for back-up,” Root says.

“I… know that,” Shaw replies, a perfectly sculpted eyebrow rising questioningly.

“I didn’t call for back-up because I didn’t have to, Sameen. Back-up was already here.”

 

Before the words can register in Shaw’s mind, the window next to her shatters and there is a sharp pain in her left arm which forces her to look down at it and bring her right hand to protect it instinctively. Root is still looking at her, unperturbed.

 

“I didn’t fall into your trap, Shaw. When I saw you being led away by Samaritan agents the day I killed Martine, I knew they’d have plans for you. I knew they’d try to turn you. I couldn’t be sure they’d succeed but I knew there was a chance.”

“Root, what the hell?” Shaw asks through gritted teeth, her right hand trying desperately to get back to her gun.

“I knew you’d be looking for John and Harold, too. You had their new identities; you knew where to find them. Samaritan would have people looking for them. So I found someone else to help.”

 

Root reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone. She presses a button and gives out an order:

 

“I’m extracting her now. Make sure the way is clear. We’ll be down in five.”

“Copy that,” a female voice that Shaw identifies immediately responds.

“Brooks,” Shaw states as Root hangs up.

“Brooks,” she confirms. “Surely you know that your new allies killed Grice? Of course Brooks would want revenge.”

 

Shaw sinks to the ground, unable to stand any longer. Root crouches next to her and takes the weapons away from the lethal operative.

 

“These are tranquilizer bullets with a paralytic agent, Sameen. They will knock you out for a while, to give me enough time to get you to a secure location. Then I guess we’ll figure out what to do about this new personality of yours.”

“They’ll… find you. You c—can’t hide from Samaritan.”

“Rest now, sweetie. Don’t fight the tranquilizer. It’s pointless.”

 

Those brown eyes Root loves so much stare at her, and in the glow cast by the street lights, Root can read the conflict that Shaw must be experiencing. Slowly, she brushes a strand of hair back from Shaw’s face and smiles.

 

“I’ll find a way to get you back, Sameen. Trust me. Now close your eyes.”

 

A last act of defiance, Shaw refuses to obey but the drug in her system soon overtakes her, and Root watches as her love slips into unconsciousness.


End file.
